


Casting Devious Stares

by GotTheSilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Comeplay, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:56:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was an accident the first time.  Derek wasn’t looking to spy on Stiles; to hear the slick sounds of him jerking himself off, the whine low in his throat when he came, the satisfied sigh when his heart rate settled back down, and the rustle of his sheets when he reached around to clean himself up.  Derek knows Stiles jerks off — he’s spent enough time in the kid’s room to catch the scent that permeated every corner — but he’s never thought about it.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Now he can’t get it out of his mind.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casting Devious Stares

**Author's Note:**

> I really just wanted to write some porn.
> 
> Stiles is technically underage, and Derek is a tiny bit creepy, but not really any less creepy than we've seen him in the show.

It was an accident the first time. Derek wasn’t looking to spy on Stiles; to hear the slick sounds of him jerking himself off, the whine low in his throat when he came, the satisfied sigh when his heart rate settled back down, and the rustle of his sheets when he reached around to clean himself up. Derek knows Stiles jerks off — he’s spent enough time in the kid’s room to catch the scent that permeated every corner — but he’s never thought about it.

Now he can’t get it out of his mind.

Derek didn’t see anything that time. Didn’t know if Stiles’ mouth was open, if he bit his lips to make them red and swollen. Derek didn’t know if Stiles pushed his blankets down, if he let the air of his room hit his dick, or if he kept it all covered up, sweaty and heated and desperate.

He wants to know everything. Wants to hold Stiles down and stick his nose against his neck; soak up Stiles’ scent until he’s drowning in it, until he’s coated in it. Derek wants Stiles to jerk off and rub his come into Derek’s stomach, wants to bend Stiles over and lick him out until Stiles is sobbing, begging to come.

Derek wants it _all_ , and he knows if he tried, Stiles would give it to him.

*

Next time it’s not an accident. Derek waits outside, perched on the roof until he hears the tinny sound of internet porn seeping out of Stiles’ headphones. He’d like to claim there’s a moral dilemma, but there isn’t. Derek wants Stiles in every possible way he can get him, he doesn’t care about anything else. There’s the shuffling of Stiles pushing his pjs off and the click of a cap as he slicks his dick up.

Derek’s dick is straining against his zipper, aching to be touched and getting harder with each second he listens to Stiles. It’s not until he can hear Stiles’ heart start to stutter, his breathing shallow, that he slides in through the window.

Stiles’ hand is around his dick, flushed head poking out each time he jerks himself, his movements getting more and more frantic. His computer is balanced dangerously on the side of his bed, all but forgotten now, and Derek’s throat goes dry as Stiles lets out that whine he heard last time.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Derek is kneeling beside the bed, one hand on Stiles’ bare thigh, and when Stiles jolts, his eyes shooting open, Derek’s fingers dig into the flesh.

“Wha — oh _fuck_ ,” is all Stiles manages to say before he’s coming, spilling all over his hand, his stomach, and Derek wants is to taste it.

There’s a flush of embarrassment coming off Stiles, and Derek doesn’t let go of the grip he has on Stiles’ thigh. “Don’t,” he says. “Don’t think what you’re thinking.”

Stiles’ laugh is on the edge of hysteria, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping. “You just saw me come all over myself, I have no idea what I’m thinking.”

“You’re embarrassed,” Derek says, inching closer on his knees, swiping his free hand through the come on Stiles’ stomach. “Don’t be.” Derek’s cock throbs in his pants as he licks his hand clean, his eyes locked with Stiles’ as he does.

“What — I am really fucking confused here.”

“Really?” Derek smirks, showing his teeth, knowing exactly how predatory he looks in this moment. Knowing from the way Stiles’ pulse speeds up that he’s enjoying it. “What’s confusing about this?”

“You licked up my come.”

“I want to lick more than that.”

“Oh my _god_ , you can’t just say that,” Stiles hisses. “My dad is in the next room.”

Derek shrugs, his hand loosening its grip on Stiles’ thigh and stroking the marks he’s left there. Stiles always said he bruised easily, but Derek’s fascinated by how it looks like Stiles will have marks from Derek’s fingers right there on his thigh. It makes him wonder what other marks he could leave on Stiles. “You don’t want this?”

“That’s not what I said.” Sitting up, Stiles touches Derek’s face, trailing his fingers up to Derek’s hair and grabbing tight. “I want this. It’s — everyone’s going to think it’s a bad idea.”

“I only care about what you think.” Derek likes the grip Stiles has on him. It’s possessive, like Derek is his for the taking, and Derek isn’t sure that Stiles realises how true that is. “I only care about what you want.”

“You,” Stiles says, his jaw set. “I want you.”

“You’ve got me.”

And that’s all Derek says before Stiles is kissing him with a ferocity Derek always knew was bubbling underneath his skin. It’s a claiming kiss, and Derek’s wolf rises up against the challenge; in seconds Derek has Stiles pressed against the mattress, his fully clothed body covering Stiles’ naked one. Stiles’ hand has given up on gripping Derek’s hair, and is instead stroking the back of Derek’s neck, blunt nails dragging against the skin, bringing blood to the surface.

Stiles’ slowly drying come is smearing against Derek’s shirt, and when he gets home Derek’s keeping that shirt by his pillow. Pushing his hips down against Stiles’, Derek’s gratified when Stiles moans and pushes up against him, his hands now digging into Derek’s shoulders. “C’mon, Derek, I want — _please_.”

Derek reaches between them and somehow manages to unzip his pants, tugging his dick out and then Derek feels Stiles’ hands at the waistband of his pants, shoving them down and grabbing greedy handfuls of his ass. Stiles is already more than half hard, and all it takes is Derek stroking his dick a few times to get him all the way there. The weight of Stiles’ dick in Derek’s hand is almost too much for him to take, and he wants to crawl down Stiles’ body, take it in his mouth and lick, suck, tease Stiles until he’s crying out.

But he can wait, he can be patient. This time, Derek’s got Stiles underneath him and Stiles is squirming up against Derek, trying to move his hips and thrust into Derek’s hand. Derek watches Stiles’ face, his plush mouth falling open when Derek takes them both in hand; when Derek curls himself over Stiles to kiss him, biting down on Stiles’ bottom lip because he can’t _not_. And it’s ridiculous, it is, Derek should have better stamina than this, but Stiles is all heated skin and jerking movements and Derek’s wanted this for longer than he’ll admit.

It’s simple, in the end, because what it is is Stiles’ broken voice going “Derek,” and then Derek comes, his dick pulsing in his hand, pressed up against Stiles’ cock; apparently that’s all Stiles needs because he follows quickly, a quiet, strangled cry trapped in his throat as he comes.

There’s quiet as Derek releases his grip on their dicks and rolls off Stiles. His hand is coated with their mixed come and he can’t stop himself from licking it up, something primal within him satisfied at their combined tastes. Stiles doesn’t take his eyes off him, the same curious look in his eyes that he gets when he’s learning something new, and then he’s reaching out to take Derek’s hand, bringing it to his own mouth. His tongue swipes across Derek’s fingers, his nose wrinkling at the taste, but he carries on, licking until he’s cleaned up what’s left.

“Is that a you thing or a wolf thing?” Stiles asks, still holding Derek’s hand, pressing his lips against Derek’s knuckles delicately.

“Both.”

“And the wanting me. Is that —”

“Me,” Derek says quickly. “That’s all me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Stiles settles back against his pillow, long legs stretched out, his dick soft, come still smeared on his stomach. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about rimming,” he says, yawning.

Derek isn’t going to argue with that.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://heroderekhale.tumblr.com), if you wish!


End file.
